The end of an era.

 And so I take my leave. Leaving the awesome people at Bar'am wasn't easy. People were crying, or in some cases, eating (seriously, Callin?). It's been great being there, and I'm going to miss all of you (except Callin.).

The bus ride to Tel Aviv was uneventful, except Windzer had borrowed my MP3 and not charged it (fucking southafricans), so I just sat in silence. Once I got there, I had Yshai waiting for me, he'd helped me find out about the train to Ben Gurion, we had to run to make sure we caught it, but we made it. One last goodbye there, and I'm off to the airport. There, I had about 6 hours until my flight, so I sat down, and read. My mom had sent me a book, so I just started on one end, and kept going until I reached the other. Interesting read, Änglarnas Svar (The Angels' Reply). Anyway, by the time I'd finished, it was around 3, and I got off to have my luggage rummaged through several times. I'd brought about a dozen bars of chocolate for my sister, and of course it looked like drugs/bombs/a mix on the X-ray machine. They even examined my shoes.

Soon enough, though, I'm off, flying. Thinking back on every memory, all the people, everything, until I doze off. All in all, I got about 3 hours of sleep that night. More time to contemplate things in Prague, though that is irrelevant - the real realisation begins above Denmark.

 I didn't realise how empty it felt, until I looked out from the plane, and saw the bridge separating Denmark from Sweden - I'd be crossing it soon, glad to get home, but just then I realised where I'd be waking up. I'd not get up to go to work, grumbling until I wake up, with team OC. I'd not be rubbing my ability to just roll over and go back to sleep in Alice's face when she woke up. I'd not get to spend the afternoon doing absolutely nothing with awesome people. There's a lot of people I've gotten used to, that I might never talk to again. That I'll never get to dance with, share a laugh, whatever. These are people, awesome people, from all over the world, and they're going back out there. Sure, Skype's there, but it's far from the same thing - with people conversation flowed like water, it would feel slow, forced, and so different from what I remembered. I felt the sadness creep up on me, embrace me, and pull me away from Bar'am.

I'm back with my lovely family - 3 people in a house the size of one of the volunteer buildings. It feels empty, despite them. It just takes some getting used to, like it took ages to get used to Bar'am. On the train home, it all hit me again - there were clouds in the sky, it had rained. The last time I saw rain was my first week at Bar'am. The forests were a different shade of green. It was far too flat, and the fields looked so odd. EVERYONE around me understood swedish - I couldn't have a candid conversation anymore. Seeing someone from my old school on the way to the car was weird. I think I've gone insane - I could have sworn I heard Callin's voice at the airport, and then saw Charlie on a bus in Sweden. Then... I was home. In my house again. It smelled weird - I'd never noticed that my house smelled like anything, at all. Then you're gone, you come back and notice it all. My sister came out to greet me, and it was like I'd never left. Cats jumping at me to cuddle with me, my sister's pet rats everywhere. And now I'm sat here, listening to the same music as I did the day after the Red Wedding. (Game of Thrones fans, you'll understand)

I don't know what to do with myself, now. Bar'am is just a memory. It carries on like it did before me, barely even registering that I was there. Now I'm back.

Life keeps moving, even if you're not ready for it.

Jalla bye.